


The Nightmare

by Kindassunshine



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Control, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Mind Control, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 11:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2107317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kindassunshine/pseuds/Kindassunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night-time visitation or waking dream? </p><p>Clarice Starling can't be sure... and after all there is innocence in uncertainty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I think I was imagining Jodie Foster and Mads... definitely not Anthony Hopkins :l
> 
> Enjoy!

As she lay back, naked against the sheets, Clarice Starling did not experience fear. She thought later she had been numbed by shock or excess adrenaline or perhaps both. The figure shifted in the shadowed portion of her bedroom, moving into the orange fluoresce cast by the street light outside Clarice’s window. Dr Hannibal Lecter was as neat and sleek as ever. Though he was more stylishly dressed then when Clarice had first met him. His dark suit fitted like a second skin. The pelt of a predator. A tiepin winked at her in the gloom like a warning light.  
‘Very good, Clarice,’ he murmured, tongue tracing his upper-lip delicately. Clarice swallowed the throbbing of her heart.  
‘Are you going to kill me, Dr Lecter?’ she asked, anger sharpening her accent. Lecter chuckled.  
‘Do you think I should?’  
‘No.’  
‘Why not?’ He asked, large and unexpectedly dexterous hands unbuttoning his jacket then waistcoat, ‘they’d execute me if they found me. You’re a murder too, aren’t you? And possessed of all faculties that allow you to judge right from wrong.’  
‘Unlike you,’ Clarice said softly, as the doctor continued to undress with a sensuality that made her ache. He did not pause but she could see the gleam of sharp, white teeth in the darkness.  
‘You’re being rude, Clarice,’ he said quietly.  
‘Forgive me, Doctor,’ Clarice muttered, ‘it’s been a long time since I’ve been in this position.’ She shifted on the bed; he was as naked now as she but still blurred in the low light.  
‘Tell me,’ the doctor murmured, gleaming eyes tracing up pale inner thighs to pink nipples puckered in the cool air.  
‘What do-’  
‘Who was he?’ he cut her off.  
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she flushed moving to sit up and cover herself; suddenly as ashamed as if the eyes of God had turned on her.  
‘Lie back, Clarice,’ he instructed, she looked into red-flecked eyes and complied, ‘do you think He’s laughing at us? I do, Clarice. He’s laughing at us. Petty ants who try to dress-up base desire as something… holy.’ Clarice felt a thrill of ice streak through her core. His thoughts matched hers so exactly. She ran her eyes over the doctor as he moved closer to her bed, it was the first time she had consciously done so. His gait was that of a large cat; sinuously flowing lines.  
‘Well,’ Clarice tried for a light tone, ‘at least he hasn’t dropped the roof on us yet.’ Lecter chuckled darkly, knee depressing her mattress with a creak. Clarice bit her lower lip. She lay pale and nude while Lecter crouched at the foot of the bed. She was suddenly and absurdly reminded of Fuseli’s The Nightmare. The nightmare considered his prize briefly. Maroon eyes moving from the pulse fluttering in her femoral artery to the rhythmic rise and fall of her ribs. He was fully erect now. Clarice was calm.  
Lecter could sense her awareness of him. Scent her response to his body’s readiness. His first touch was just below her sternum. She jerked at the unanticipated heat of his hand. He settled her with a soft sigh. He moved his left hand up over ribs to rest on the gentle swell of her breast. The nipple was taught beneath his palm. He shifted his weight suddenly to rest his right forearm above her head. Their faces were inches apart and Hannibal was able to breath in the terrified exhale. Slim hands pushed at his ribs.  
‘Hands on the mattress,’ he breathed into her ear. Clarice growled softly before slapping her hands down with unnecessary force. He smiled, kissing her cheek then jaw then throat, over the vestigial firmness that rolled beneath her skin as she swallowed. His left hand slid between them moving from breast to ribs again then lower to her hips. He entered her with his longest digit and felt a stab of regret for the missing sixth. She was ready for him.  
Clarice watched his face change imperceptibly. Although his expression didn’t alter, the bloody flecks in his irises seemed to come together to a point of pure scarlet before scattering. Clarice curved dark pink lips. She had surprised him. The eyes moved to her lips. Clarice gasped, when Lecter shifted again; forearms framing her head trapping the halo of auburn strands.  
‘Help me,’ the doctor breathed into her other ear. Clarice understood him, as he understood the feeling of God’s eyes upon her. She traced Lecter’s lower abdominals, feeling the delicious flex, before moving to his penis. Clarice looked into Hannibal’s dark eyes as she guided him into her. It felt like gazing long into the abyss, and the abyss gazing back. She exhaled softly at the feeling of penetration. If the world had ended in that moment she would not have known. They rolled together like rocks in the surf, knocking each other smooth. Clarice gave a guttural gasp as her body clenched around the hot expanse within her. Lecter bared his teeth, giving Starling a bitter foretaste of her ultimate doom. When it was over they lay in silence, naked back to naked back. Clarice’s throat throbbed where he’d marked her. She wondered if it was how the wound on her soul looked to God.


End file.
